Ghosts in the Machine
by FreeSocksForAll
Summary: When a robot has existed for a long time, it begins to take on certain quirks, almost developing a personality. These quirks are sometimes referred to as "ghosts in the machine." While they tend to develop over time, some ghosts are created, and not in very pleasant ways. The guards at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza are about to discover how very real these ghosts can be.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Good job internets! You've gotten me addicted to playing/watching/reading about Five Night's at Freddy's! I actually used to not want to have anything to do with this game, seeing as I thought it was dumb. But then I played it, and holy shit. **

**Needless to say, I've joined the fandom. And, as most are inclined to do, I've started theorizing. And since I'm not good/patient enough for drawing stuff, I'm going to write stuff. **

** (Disclaimer: I don't own nunna this stuff. Except for the stuff I do)**

"Allison, I'm scared."

"Oh, don't be such a baby, Mike. It's perfectly safe."

"Are you sure? It's so high up…"

"C'mon, scaredy-cat, just do it!"

"Alright…"

Mike gripped the rope in front of him with sweaty hands. He steadied himself on the branch that he sat in, getting ready to jump. He took a slow breath, readying himself.

"Are you gonna jump or not?"

"Be quiet, Allison, I was just going too!"

"I thought pirates were supposed to be brave."

"I am brave! You be quiet!"

"Prove it then."

"Maybe I will!"

Mike turned back to the rope, a determined look on his face. He took a deep breath, and then another, and another; faster each time. Then he stood up on the branch, grabbed the rope, and jumped.

CRACK!

The branch under him gave way. He scrambled at the rope, but his hands were too sweaty and he tumbled through the air. The end of the rope tangled around his foot, catching him moments before he hit the ground. He swung towards the tree, smacking into it face first so hard it made Allison scream. Limp, he swung back away, groaning softly, before the branch holding the rope gave way as well, and he fell on his head. Allison rushed forward to help him, right as the branch came down, crashing into his stomach as a final humiliation.

"Oh my God! Mike, are you okay!?"

He didn't move for a second, before groaning loudly.

"Ow! Ow. Ow. Ow."

"Are you okay, Mike?"

"Ouch… I think so."

"Then don't scare me like that!" she yelled, punching him in the arm.

"Ow! I didn't do it on purpose!"

"You're so bad at being Foxy!"

"No I'm not!"

"You didn't even make it out of the tree!"

"Yeah, well," he sat up, grabbing a plastic cupcake out of her hand, "HA!"

"Hey! You can't do that, that's cheating!"

"Arr! Pirates don't play by the rules!"

He jumped up and ran off, laughing, and she chased him, yelling about what a cheater he was.

* * *

><p>Later, they both sat on top of the hill they had been playing on. Being tired out from playing all afternoon, they simply sat and watched the clouds.<p>

"…and that one looks like a chicken."

"You look like a chicken."

"Ha, ha, Mike. You're _so_ funny. Hey, that one looks like a birthday cake!"

"Like my cake next week!"

"Well, maybe it knows."

"About what?"

"About how you're turning eight next week, silly!"

"Oh yeah, that. No, I don't think so."

"Hmm. I've always thought that the clouds knew something we didn't. Maybe they tell the future!"

"That's silly."

"Yeah, well—"

"_Allison!" _came a voice from the house nearby, "_Your mother's here to pick you up!"_

"Alright, Mrs. Schmitt, I'm coming!" she turned back to Mike, "See you at the party?"

"Yeah!"

"See you then!" she yelled, running towards the house.

"See you when I'm eight!" he called after her.

* * *

><p>Mike walked into the house, shutting the back door as he entered. His mother stood in the kitchen, stirring a bowl of cookie dough with a wooden spoon.<p>

"I saw you out there with your little girlfriend," she said, turning to him with a grin.

"Geez, mom, she's not my girlfriend! She's just a friend."

"Well, you two were very cute together."

"Pirates aren't _cute, _mom."

"Well, you do make a very handsome pirate."

"_Mom!"_

"I'm just teasing. Is she coming to your birthday party?"

"Yeah. Is dad coming, too?"

"No, he's not."

"Why not?"

"He says he's on a business trip, sweetie."

"Hmph. He's _always _on a business trip."

"Well, he's got an important job, dear."

"But he never shows up to _anything._"

"All your friends will be there, dear, you'll still have fun."

"Hmph."

"Trust me! I can feel it from my toes—"

She squatted down and grabbed his feet. He smiled.

"—to the tip of my nose!" she finished, taking the spoon and putting a dab of cookie dough on his nose, making him giggle.

"Thanks, mom."

"For what!"

"For being my mom, of course!" he said, jumping forward and wrapping his arms around her.

"Thanks, sweetie. Now, let's get these cookies in the oven, and we might finish them before you have to go to bed."

* * *

><p>A couple hours later, after Mike was in bed, Mrs. Schmitt sat in front of the television, a glass of wine in her hand. She stared blearily at the news without really seeing them. The lady on the screen was talking about something involving a fire downtown, nothing too important. The wine glass started to slip from her hand.<p>

"You really are pathetic, aren't you?"

Her head snapped up. She looked around, trying to find the source of the noise.

"Over here."

She looked over at the kitchen, where a man in a cheap grey suit stood with a briefcase.

"Oh, it's you," she muttered sadly, "I really am drunk, then."

"That's not really fair to Mike, you know," said her ex-husband.

"Oh, like you'd—_hic—_know anything about being fair to him. You left."

"That doesn't mean I don't still care for him."

"Not enough to come to his birthday."

"That's harsh."

"That's the truth. It doesn't matter anyways, because you're just—"

She drained the glass in one gulp.

"—a fucking—"

She lifted the empty glass above her head.

"—hallucination!"

The glass sailed through his chest and crashed to the floor, shattering.

"You'd better clean that up," he said.

She started sobbing over the woman on the television.

"Like you care! You left me!"

_ "And in more recent news, a second child has gone missing—"_

"Left me with nothing! You didn't care!"

_ "—police say that he was coming home from a friend's house, when his mother stopped for gas—"_

"Left me pregnant with a child I couldn't care for, after you'd already taken all my money!"

_ "—Miles Wilson went to find out more—"_

"I loved you, and you took everything!"

"You're drunk, Judith."

She reached over to the end table and grabbed a lamp. She lifted it over her head, when the sound of footsteps stopped her in her tracks.

"Mom?" said Mike, leaning over the rail on the stairs, "Are you okay? I heard yelling."

"I'm—I'm fine, dear. Just… had the TV up a bit too loud."

"Oh. Okay," said Mike, not looking entirely convinced.

He went back upstairs. She waited until she heard his door close, before setting the lamp down and slumping back into the chair. She looked back over at the kitchen; her ex-husband was gone. Sighing, she turned off the TV and went to bed.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, the day guard glanced at his watch. The numbers 10:57 blinked back at him in light blue. He sighed and got back to work. He was busy with the Bonnie in the back room; the new one would be too obvious. He fiddled with a crossbeam, trying to wedge it out of the way. Growing frustrated, he pulled a hammer out of his toolbox and whacked it a couple times. It bent, and he put the hammer back, satisfied. He looked at his work for a second, before deciding that it was good enough and standing up. He left the back room and went the prize corner. He checked his watch again. It was 11:01.<p>

He made it to the prize corner. How ironic, he thought, that the children who came here knew nothing of the real prize! He stepped over to the puppet's box. He lifted the lid, revealing the lifeless body underneath. He reached into the box, taking up the dead boy in his arms. He put his prize down on the floor. As he replaced the lid on the box, he could have sworn he saw the puppet move. He put the thought out of his mind, it was unimportant now.

As he went back to the room, the body in his arms shifted, groaning.

"Hush, child," whispered the guard, "You'll soon be granted life."

"Who—who are you?" said the dead boy in a terrified whisper, "Where's my mom?"

"It is alright, boy," crooned the guard, stroking the dead boy's hair, "I am the bringer of life."

"What?" whispered the corpse, "What are you talking about?"

"Shh," hushed the guard as they entered the back room, "You'll see."

He placed the dead boy on the floor. The corpse appeared to be gaining strength, because he got up and scooted back a bit.

"You're the man who took that other boy, aren't you? Are you going to—going to kill me like you killed him?"

"Hush, hush," crooned the guard, "I did not kill him. I did the opposite, in fact. I gave him life, the same gift I shall give you. Here, let me show you!"

He moved quickly towards the boy. The dead child jumped back, but not fast enough; the guard's hands found his neck. The hands began to squeeze, choking the corpse. The dead boy's legs kicked uselessly as his fingernails scratched desperately at the guard's hands. The guard squeezed harder as the boy's scrambling grew weaker, until finally, it stopped. The guard kept squeezing, making sure that he wasn't simply faking. After another minute, the guard released his grip, breathing heavily.

"And now," he panted, "I give you life!"

He pulled the lifeless body to the Bonnie he'd been working on. He pushed the boy into the suit, nestling him into the space he'd created. He closed the suit, sewing the outer fabric closed. He reached up for the switch near the neck, flicking the animatronic on.

"He-he-hello everyb-b-u-u-dy! Wel-welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pi-Piz-z-z-za," the animatronic stuttered. The limp rabbit's faceless head turned towards the guard.

"Hey—hey there b-u-u-u-uddy. You (_killed me) _lo-look like a n-nice guy! Sorry, bu-but the pi-pi-pizzeria is closed! I-I'll have t-to (_kill you) _ask you to leave!"

The day guard grinned. It had worked!

"Sir, could you ple-ple-please _(run) _exit in a s-safe and orderly-ly-ly-ly fashion? The pi-pi-pizzeria is clo-clo-closed."

Still grinning, the day guard checked his watch. It was 11:21. That left him plenty of time to prepare before the night guard showed up. He set everything back in its proper place and replaced the toolbox in the janitor's closet. He just finished at 11:30, right as the night guard arrived.

The doors at the front were pushed open, and a young man, maybe sixteen, walked in the door. The day guard immediately straightened, reminding himself to act normally.

"Hey, kid," he said, keeping his voice casual, "you the new night guard?"

Soft as his voice was, the kid still jumped.

"Ah! Oh… yeah," the kid muttered, "I needed a summer job, so—"

"Yeah, whatever. What's your name, kid?"

"J-Jeremy. Jeremy Fitzgerald."

"Hmm. Well, see you in the morning, Jimmy. There's a first aide kit in the desk if you manage to hurt yourself."

He walked over to the door.

"If you survive," he added.

He stepped through the door, locking it before he went. Jeremy took a deep breath, telling himself that the guard was just messing with him. Still, as he walked around the pizzeria, familiarizing himself with the place, he couldn't help but feel as if the animatronics' eyes followed him. He suppressed the though with a shudder, and checked his watch. It was 11:56. He hurried to the security office.

He sat down in the chair. The clock ticked softly as he sat, twiddling his thumbs. He stared at the wall, tracing the festive pattern with his eyes. The phone rang, making him jump. He pressed the button for speakerphone.

"_Uh, hello? Hello, hello? Uh, hello and welcome to your new summer job at the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza…"_

Jeremy relaxed. It was just a boring welcoming call. He started to lose focus, catching snatches of the recorded message.

"—_they've spent a small fortune on these new animatronics, uh, facial recognition, advanced mobility, they even let them walk around during the day. Isn't that neat?"_

The phone guy cleared his throat, snapping Jeremy back to attention.

"_But most importantly, they're all tied into some kind of criminal database, so they can detect a predator a mile away. Heck, we should be paying them to guard you…"_

Jeremy's mind started to wander again. He caught bits about kinks and wandering animatronics, but he wasn't too worried. He'd been here during the day; this place was perfectly safe.

"—_so, uh, just put on your Freddy Fazbear head anytime something wanders in, and it should eventually wander back out."_

Jeremy sat up. Wandered in? That was a bit worrying.

"—_keep the music box wound, piece of cake. Have a good night, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."_

The man on the other end of the phone hung up. Jeremy didn't move. Nervously, He looked at the security monitor on his lap. He switched to the prize corner feed, and wound up the music box a bit.

He sighed. It was going to be a _long _night.

**A/N: That's about it. I don't really have much to say here, except I'm not taking OCs, plot suggestions, or the like. I might answer questions down in this section.**

**I think that day guard is the creepiest motherfucker I've ever written. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is the first chapter I've prewritten. I feel so responsible.**

It was 5 AM. Jeremy sat in his chair, flicking through the cameras.

"C'mon, c'mon, where's the bunny…"

He switched furiously through the cameras, finally landing on the one labeled _Right Vent. _He jumped back a little, but sighed nonetheless. Toy Bonnie was crawling through the vents. A couple seconds more and he could have gotten in to the office. Luckily, Jeremy had caught him.

"There you are," he muttered, "I've had just about enough of rabbits,"

He lowered the monitor and froze. The old Bonnie was standing there, it's one arm reaching for him. He threw the Freddy mask over his head, poking himself in the eye as he did so.

"Ouch!"

Through the mask's eyeholes, he saw the withered animatronic pause. It was all Jeremy could do to stop from whimpering. Only five more nights of this, he thought. Just one week of torture, and he was two days in.

His mind flashed back to the conversation he'd had with his boss after the first night.

"_I'm telling you, boss, they were moving towards the office!" _

_ "Nonsense. I made sure you didn't have any criminal record when I hired you. The new animatronics shouldn't be doing anything."_

_ "It wasn't just the new ones, boss."_

_ "What'd ya mean?"_

_ "The old Bonnie and Freddy. They've been moving. One's even come in the office a couple times."_

_ "Nonsense. They're deactivated."_

_ "And they __stink__, boss. Like, something crawled into them and died."_

_ "Tell you what. After a week, if they're still actin' up, I'll have somebody check it out."_

So Jeremy had come back the next night. He didn't exactly know why, but he felt a certain responsibility, a need to finish his job, if only to make sure that this wouldn't happen to anybody else.

He might not get that chance, though. The old Bonnie didn't look very convinced with his disguise. Jeremy kept the mask on, sitting completely still. All he could hear was his own breathing, heavy in his ears. Bonnie leaned in close to Jeremy's face, red LEDs blinking faintly. Jeremy held his breath, and in the silence, he heard a faint, echoing whisper.

("_Not him… him… him. Find the guard… rip… break… stuff…")_

Jeremy clenched all his muscles at one, willing himself not to move. The old Bonnie stared at him a moment more, then stood up straight, turned, and walked off. Jeremy waited until he had left completely, then lifted off the mask, breathing heavily. He gasped for air, breathing heavily.

"Huff… huff… the… the heck was up with that that?" he gasped.

He flicked the camera over to the prize corner, winding up the music box, which had been getting dangerously low. He flicked through the cameras, checking the stage, and the back room. The old Chica and Foxy still hadn't moved.

"If only that was true for you, too," he thought aloud, finding Toy Chica in Party Room 4. He switched back to the prize corner and wound the music box some more, before lowering the monitor. He quickly pulled the mask over his face as a precaution, and was glad that he did. Toy Bonnie had crawled into the office, and was staring him directly in the face. The animatronic didn't move; it just stared at him, creepy smile unrelenting. Jeremy heard a ringing in his ears, and the office seemed to darken.

_This is getting old, _he thought.

The office brightened again, and when it was fully lit, he saw that Bonnie had disappeared. He breathed again, pulling off the mask and checking his watch. It was 5:25. With a sigh, he shone his flashlight down the hallway. A mangled mess stared back at him from the hall. He jumped back.

"Jesus H. Frick-n-Frack!" he yelled, before slapping a hand over his mouth. He couldn't make noise; that would attract the animatronics. Besides, his mother had taught him better than to use language like that.

The mangled mess didn't seem to be moving, though. Still, that unblinking stare was pretty unsettling. An alarm started beeping softly from the security monitor; the music box was getting low again. He switched reluctantly to the prize corner, winding up the box. After the box was wound, he lowered the monitor.

_Hello._

Jeremy froze. A fat little boy was standing in his office, holding a sign that read _Balloons! _in his left hand. He moved to put the mask on, but it wasn't where he left it.

_Ha, ha, ha, ha._

"Go away!" he yelled at the animatronic boy, "Your—your balloon is freaking dumb!"

The animatronic just stared.

"Y-yeah, that's right," Jeremy stuttered, "I used the F-word!"

The painted-on smile of the balloon boy seemed to slip slightly. Jeremy was afraid he might have been too loud, but before he could find out if he had been, the clock began to chime. It was finally six o' clock.

Jeremy sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. When he sat back down, BB was gone, and so was the Mangle. He got up, grabbed his bag and headed for the exit. As he left, he found his Freddy mask and flashlight next to the now-immobile Balloon Boy.

"You really shouldn't be stealing, you know," he said to the animatronic, "It's against the rules."

He went to push open the door, but someone had already gotten it for him.

"Another quiet night?" said the day guard as he held open the door.

Jeremy shrugged.

"Yeah. You could say so."

"Alright. See you later, Jimmy."

"I've told you, it's Jeremy."

"Whatever."

Jeremy threw an annoyed glare at the day guard, but didn't say anything. He went to the parking lot and started his car, ready to go home for a good night's sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Another quiet night?<em>

_ You could say so._

A quiet night… the boy was obviously lying. Whether he was lying or not, though, it didn't matter. Little Jeremy wouldn't be having any more quiet nights, that was for sure. No more quiet nights, indeed, thought the day guard, as he finished his newest creation. He reached up to the neck and flicked it on.

"Yar-ar-ar-arr, me mayteys…"

* * *

><p><em>The boy was sitting by himself, in a crowded pizzeria, with only the book in his hands for company. He would be easy pickings…<em>

"Police reports say that the boy was last sighted at the local Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

_The day guard approached him. Even from so far away, the guard could see how dead the boy was…_

"His mother reports dropping him off for a friend's birthday party."

_"Hello. What are you doing all the way over here by yourself?"_

"All of the guests at the party didn't report seeing the boy."

_"Sorry, mister. My mom says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."_

"The only witness reported to have seen him was the day guard on duty."

"_Those are some cool shoes. Do you like to run?"_

"He claims to have seen the boy run off after his mother dropped him off."

"_Yeah! I'm the fastest one in my class!"_

"Police have searched the nearby area and found no traces of the boy."

"_Then why aren't you sitting with your friends?"_

"His mother and father have not given up hope, though…"

"_Oh. I… don't have any. The other kids like to hit me because I read a lot."_

"They claim that he's out there, somewhere, and they'll do anything to find him."

_"Hmm. Hey, I think I know someone who'll be your friend."_

"A reward has been offered to anyone with information leading to the recovery of the boy."

"_Really?"_

"If you have any information regarding this incident, please call the number listed below."

"_Of course! Follow me, he's in the back."_

"This has been Veronica Lahmbourgh, reporting live."

"_You two will be… inseparable."_

* * *

><p>Back in the suburbs, Allison sat in the kitchen at her house, reading a book.<p>

"Allison."

She didn't look up.

"Allison!"

"What is it, mom?" she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Allison, you need to hide, now."

"What's the matter?"

"It's your father, he's drunk again. Now don't ask any more questions, just hide…"

Allison did as her mother said, hiding in the cupboard underneath the sink. Her mother helped her in, shutting the door just as a banging sounded from the front.

"Honey! Why's the door locked!?" a voice yelled as the banging continued.

"Because I locked it, dear," Allison heard her mother say. She heard her mother walking to the door, and then the soft click of a door being unlocked. The door banged open, and she heard her stepfather take a few staggering footsteps inside.

"Where's Allison?"

"She's—she's at a friend's house."

"You're lying. She's around here somewhere."

He started shuffling around, calling for her in a slurred drawl.

"Allie! Allison! Where are you, sweetheart!?"

She opened the cupboard a crack and peeked outside. Her mother was putting a hand on her stepdad's shoulder, trying to hold him back.

"Honey, don't, you know she can't take much more of this, please don't—"

He turned around and slapped her across the face.

"Back off, woman!" he yelled, staggering backwards, "This is between me and my daughter!"

"Dear, please, you're just drunk, you wouldn't be doing this if you weren't drunk—"

"I said BACK OFF!" he roared, turning and slapping her again.

She collapsed to the floor and Allison screamed.

"Mom!"

"There you are, you little _rat!_" he shouted, throwing open the cupboard and grabbing her by the wrists.

"Let go of me!"

"I won't let go of you until I've taught you a lesson!"

He struck her across the face, sending her sprawling across the floor.

"You can't teach me anything!" she sobbed, "You're just—you're just a mean old drunk!"

His face contorted in rage.

"How dare you!" he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Run, Allison!" he mother yelled from the floor.

Allison didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled up off the floor, ducking her father's drunken swing, and sprinted through the door. She ran out into the night air, breathing heavily. Her father continued to shout behind her, yelling for her to stop. But she didn't listen, she just ran. She ran, until she didn't know where she was anymore, and she was too tired to continue. Finally, she staggered into an alley, collapsing by the dumpster.

* * *

><p>It was his fourth night.<p>

"C'mon, not now, not now! I'm so close!"

Jeremy switched through the cameras at rapid speed, barely glancing at the animatronics already in the halls.

"Where's the fox?!"

He flicked through the cameras even faster, still not finding Foxy.

"But… that means—"

He lowered the monitor. A rhythmic thumping was coming from the hallway, growing louder with each thump. Jeremy slammed his hand onto the flashlight button. The hallway was illuminated, and for a brief second, he caught a glance of the fox, sprinting down the hallway at him. The animatronic screeched, recoiling away from the light. Jeremy pressed the switch again, shining the light in the fox's eyes. The machine kept roaring, and he flashed the light again, on and off, until the hallway was silent and the fox was gone. Jeremy took his hand off the switch, breathing heavily. Collapsing into his chair, he looked at the security monitor. A small triangle was flashing red in the corner. Panicking, he switched over to the prize corner and smashed his finger into the button that said _click to wind._

Nothing happened.

Panicking, he pressed the button again. Still nothing. He mashed the button, again and again, until a voice, slow and haunting, stopped him in his tracks.

_ All around the mulberry bush,_

_ The monkey chased the weasel…_

Jeremy clapped his hands to his ears, but it was no use, the voice was in his mind, dancing on the edge of his sanity…

_The monkey thought it was all in good sport,_

_ Pop! Goes the weasel…_

His eyes were forced open, and a face, a horrible, laughing face, appeared in the hallway.

_A penny for a spool of thread,_

_ A penny for a needle—_

_ That's the way the monkey goes…_

A terrible black form appeared in the hallway.

_Pop! Goes the weasel…_

It was walking—no, it was _gliding_—closer and closer.

_Jeremy's got the whooping cough,_

_ And Mikey's got the measles._

_ That's the way the story goes…_

It flew through the door; he pulled up his knees and scrunched up his face.

_Pop! Goes the weee…_

This was the end. He held his breath, feeling its arms inches from his neck…

A bell rung, somewhere. Jeremy didn't move. Was he dead? He opened one eye, and then the other. The puppet hung a foot in front of him, suspended by a collection of metal wires. He leaned sideways, looking at the clock behind the limp marionette. It read 6:00 in pale white letters. Jeremy looked back at the puppet that had nearly been his death, and with a feeble laugh, collapsed to the floor.

**A/N: C'mon, I had to include a Rebornica reference! Just one. For now.**

** Publishing days are going to be on Mondays and Fridays, and Wednesdays too, If I can manage.**

**Leave a review if you liked what you read, I love getting feedback.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is a thing up here where I write stuff. Nothing to say here, except I'm particularly proud of this chapter. Bleah…**

**Oh, I need a cover image; I'm a shitty artist. **

**It's still Friday, I wasn't late! **

Allison woke up, a bitter taste in her mouth. She wondered where she was for a second, before the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. She choked back a sob. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and down on to her nose. It dangled off the end for a second, before falling to the ground with a soft _plink_. She rubbed her nose and looked up.

She was in an alley, and a smelly one at that. The air smelled like rotting vegetables and day-old meat. Not wanting to stay there much longer, she stumbled out of the alley, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. She bumped into a man, who pushed her aside with a "_watch it, kid." _She mumbled an apology; squinting as her eyes adjusted. The sign on the building next to her read _Honest Ed's Groceries and Barbeque. _Her stomach let out a loud grumble, and she realized how hungry she was. A savory smell wafted through the door and her mouth began to water at the thought of all the food inside.

_But I can't go in there, _she thought. _I don't have any money. _

A man on his cell phone brushed past her, knocking her down. He stumbled, spilling a couple apples out of the bag in his hand, but didn't seem to notice. He walked off, eyes still glued to his cell phone. Allison picked one of the apples off the ground and bit into it. It was sour, but she didn't care and ate the entire thing. Once her stomach was filled, somewhat, she began to wonder what she would do. Her first thought was to find a grown-up she could trust, but who? For the longest time she couldn't think of anyone, until finally she got an idea. She grabbed the sleeve of the closest person, a young woman in a cashier's uniform.

"Um, excuse me, ma'am?" she asked, "Do you know where Freddy Fazbear's Pizza is?"

* * *

><p>Back in the suburbs, Fritz Smith was banging on his sister's door.<p>

"Sis!" he yelled, "Sis!?"

He raised his fist to knock again, before the door opened a crack. An eye, bruised and blackened, peeked out of the door.

"She's not here," said a man's voice, which he immediately recognized as his brother-in-law's.

"Well, where is she?" Fritz asked, lowering his fist.

"Not here," his brother-in-law repeated, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got things to do."

He moved to close the door. Fritz put his foot in the frame before he could.

"Now, now, h-hold on," he stuttered, "I didn't come here to see her, though I, uh, hoped I could, heh."

His in-law looked up irritably; he'd been trying to force Fritz's foot out of the door frame.

"What're you here for, then?"

"I'm just, uh, I'm just here to pick up Allie. You know, for a fun day with uncle and everything."

"She ain't here either," said his brother-in-law, picking his nose, "Ran away. What'd want me to do?"

"Well, did she—did she leave anything?" asked Fritz, stuttering even more, fearing a confrontation, "A note, any sort of—sort of clue—"

He started trying to push his way inside. His brother-in-law tried to push him back, but he managed to force his head inside the room. A rotting smell immediately washed over him, wrinkling his nose involuntarily and making his eyes water. His in-law saw his chance and took it, shoving him out the door.

"Get offa my property!" his in-law snarled, slamming the door.

"W-wait! I took a whole day off! At least tell me where—"

The front door flew open again, and there stood his brother-in-law, a shotgun clutched in his hands. Fritz backed up, hands in the air.

"I said _get off my property before I put a hole in your back!"_

"Whoa, w-whoa! O-okay I'm going, I'm g-going!"

He stepped backwards into the street. His in-law stood there for a second longer, before he spit at Fritz's feet and slammed the door again. Fritz stared glumly at the tobacco-stained mess on the ground, before sighing and walking down the street to use the pay phone. He dropped a quarter into the machine, and dialed the number of his employer.

"Hey, uh, boss?" he muttered, leaning his head into the telephone pole, "You still need a day manager?"

* * *

><p>Allison sat on the bus, rocking slightly with every rickety shake. The nice cashier lady had given her a couple of bus tokens to get to the pizzeria, and a five dollar bill. She sat with the note crumpled in her sweaty hand, trying hard not to cry. A sweet-looking old lady sitting next to a grumpy-looking toddler waved at her from across the bus, and she waved back, smiling weakly. The bus slowed to a stop with a soft <em>hiss, <em>and the bus driver yelled to the back of the bus.

"This is the last stop before the end of the line!" he shouted through a stinky cigar, "Anyone still on the bus by then ain't gonna be on for long!"

The nice grandma lady got off the bus, pulling her grandson with her. A few more people stood up and left, until Allison was the only one left. The bus driver raised an eyebrow at her, but shrugged and continued on his route. Allison sat in silence for the last bumpy stretch, before the bus slowed to a stop again. The bus driver pushed the door open again, chewing on his cigar. Allison stood up to get off the bus, but before she could the bus driver grabbed her arm. She shrieked and pulled away, but he didn't let go.

"Look, sweetheart, calm down, I ain't gonna hurt ya," he grumbled through his cigar, "It's just… I seen a lot of kids your age, runnin' away from home, an' all that. A few of 'em… don't come back, not forever. You look out for yourself, alright? Last thing this city needs is another sad story, you hear me?"

And with that, he let go of her. Allison stepped of the bus, still looking back at him. He looked at her for a second, holding the door open, before finally, she spoke.

"Thanks, mister," she whispered, looking down at her feet.

"Jus' doin' my job, kid," he grunted, tipping his dirty baseball cap and shutting the door.

The bus rumbled a bit, backfired, and then was off. Allison watched it go, then turned and began walking, following the directions the cashier lady had given her. _Two blocks west on 18__th__ avenue, turn right, three blocks north, and… _she stopped. The pizzeria she was so familiar with loomed above her, but I'd didn't seem like the happy place she remembered. Sure, it was new, not like the old diner with the classic characters, but it was still a happy place. But today it seemed more… forlorn. She gaped at the sign above the door for a bit, then shook off her fears and knocked on the door.

* * *

><p>The day guard worked, struggling with himself. For the past few days, he had done his job diligently, as the puppet had instructed him. He was to take a child each night, a dead child, one full of trouble. He had managed to do so most nights, but on the ones he had failed… he shuddered at the thought. He had woken up this morning, free from the nightmares that plagued him when he failed, but with something else… lingering over him. He had come to work, and discovered the cause: the marionette was getting… greedy. It demanded a child immediately, and unable to find a dead child, he had taken one very much alive, stealing her from her bed in the night. He had been sloppy, but anything was better than the nightmares that plagued the nights of his failure. He was just setting to work on the Chica in the back, preparing it for the girl in the puppet's box, when from the front, a knocking came from the door.<p>

He swore under his breath. Was Fritz here early today? He supposed he had better check. He went to the front of the pizzeria, and was surprised to find a girl there. He opened the door a crack.

"Yeah?" he muttered, keeping his voice bored and nonchalant.

"Excuse me, mister, is, um," the girl whispered, scratching her nose, "Is there a… a Mr. Fritz Smith here?"

The day guard almost sighed with relief. The girl groaned in disappointment. He was about to shut the door, when she spoke up again.

"Can… can I talk to Mr. Freddy, then?"

He looked at her for the first time. She was a small girl, thin and weak. Almost like she was…

"He's in the back. D'you want me to go get him?"

"Y-yes, please."

The day guard nodded, and began walking to the back room, where they kept the spare suits. He glanced back at the girl. Even from here, he could see how dead she was.

* * *

><p>Jeremy woke up on the floor of the office, his right arm sore from the awkward way he'd fallen. His head spun, and he heard someone talking at the front door.<p>

"Can… can I talk to Mr. Freddy, then?

Jeremy coughed, sending up a small cloud of dust. Someone else spoke, someone he immediately recognized as the day guard.

"He's in the back. D'you want me to go get him?"

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a small voice cried "No! That's dangerous! They'll hurt him!"

"Y-yes, please."

Slowly, Jeremy pushed himself up off the ground. He head immediately protested, sending him staggering into his desk, knocking over a few loose papers. The backstage door opened and closed. Jeremy clutched a hand to his head, waiting for his vision to return to normal. When it finally did, he heard the backstage door open and close once more. The footsteps returned, but heavier and more… muffled. Jeremy started picking up speed, getting in sight of the front door just in time to see a yellow bear beckoning to a small girl.

"No!" he yelled, breaking into a run.

The bear turned and saw him. Before Jeremy could reach them, the bear grabbed the girl by the wrist, pulling her outside. Jeremy shoved the door open, sprinting after them. The bright sunlight blinded him for a second, and he didn't see where the yellow bear had taken the girl. A loud "Hey!" from behind the building drew his attention, and he sprinted around the building. He made it around the building just in time to see the bear pull the girl inside. Jeremy grabbed the door and attempted to pull it open, but it didn't give. He fumbled at his waistband for his keys. Nothing was there. He searched a bit more, before remembering he'd left them in the office. _Only one way left, _he thought grimly, sprinting back to the front.

Jeremy sprinted into the pizzeria, door slamming behind him. He ran past a phone, and a sudden thought occurred to him. Grabbing the phone, he quickly punched in the number of the pizzeria's owner. He held the receiver to his ear. The phone rung once, twice, three times, before a voice came from the other end.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Boss! It's, uh, it's Jeremy sir, and you need to get over here, quick, there's—"

"Now, slow down, boy, I can't understand a word yer—"

"Boss, I don't have time, one of the suits, he's, uh, it's acting up or something."

"What!?"

"It's lured a girl in here."

"Alright, you listen to me, you just hunker down in your office, and I'll be over there as soon as possible."

"Boss, wait—"

The phone line clicked. Jeremy put the receiver back on the holder. He looked down the hall at the door to the backroom, fighting with himself. The boss had said to hunker down, but on the other hand… that girl's _life _might be in danger. He sighed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Blowing hard through his lips, he reached up and straightened his security cap, before setting off down the hall.

He pushed the backstage door open lightly. The yellow bear was removing the paws of his own suit, all the while advancing on the girl. She backed up slowly, whimpering.

"You're not Freddy," she whispered, backing into the wall, "You're not Freddy…"

Jeremy made up his mind, and he burst through the door, rushing the man in the suit. The yellow bear whirled, but not fast enough. Jeremy threw himself on the man, who fell to the floor with a grunt. He flailed at the bear, but his fists merely bounced off the suit. The yellow bear put his hands on Jeremy's chest and shoved. Jeremy was knocked backwards, landing on his back. The man in the suit rushed him, but Jeremy rolled sideways, jumping up. The man rushed him again, but Jeremy was ready for him. As the man reached to grab him, Jeremy put his hands under the man's mask and pushed up.

The man's mask flew off and he stumbled backwards. He stood, panting, before finally turning to face Jeremy, who gaped.

_The day guard?, _he thought, _but…_

He didn't have time to finish that thought. The day guard rushed him arms outstretched. Jeremy jumped to one side, and the day guard crashed into a tool shelf. Jeremy jumped at him, but the guard countered, swinging a heavy wrench at his head. Jeremy didn't dodge in time.

Allison watched as he crumbled to the floor. The day guard stood over him, the wrench dripping with blood. She backed up, trembling. The wrench clattered to the ground, and he seemed to notice her again.

"Who… who are you?" she said in a terrified whisper.

"I… am," he breathed, advancing on her "the bringer of li—"

She reacted quickly, grabbing a rusty saw from the shelf next to her. She swung blindly, feeling the saw connect. He gasped, clutching a hand to his neck. The saw fell to the ground, and he glared at her. Undeterred, he pressed forward. She shrank back, but his hands still found her neck.

* * *

><p>When her legs stopped kicking, he finally released her. Almost in a daze, he dragged her over to the yellow bird in the corner. He pulled the back open, barely seeing what he was doing as he stuffed the girl's small form into the yellow chicken. He flipped the switch on the neck, to see if it worked, and almost didn't hear the whisper he'd grown used to hearing.<p>

_Done, _he thought, _put the mask on. Don't be seen._

He stumbled over to the golden mask, almost falling when he picked it up. He slid it on, the sound of his own labored breathing loud in his ears.

_Just… rest first, _He thought, _I'll get back to it… in … a…_

He slumped onto the wall, smearing it with blood, and lie still.

* * *

><p>Allison was in a dark fog. She heard voices whispering around her. She listened to the whispering for a bit, before attempting to speak.<p>

"Hello?" she said, peering cautiously into the mist.

One of the voices got louder. A dark form started rushing towards her out of the fog. She turned to run, but no matter where she faced, the thing was always in front of her. It got closer and closer, white pinprick pupils glowing brightly. She shut her eyes tight, not wanting to see it anymore, but the pinpricks were already in her eyes. Then the dark force rushed over her and she saw no more.

Her eyes snapped open. She was aware of the room being pitch dark, but still saw everything. She knew she was alive, but her heart didn't seem to be beating. Her arm jerked involuntarily with a metallic _whirr. _Almost without her telling it to, her head jerked down to look at her body, but the one she saw wasn't her's. A white bib reading _Let's Eat _stared back at her. She began to feel nauseated, but she had no stomach. That thought made her start to breathe heavily, but she had no lungs. That thought made her—she stopped thinking. She couldn't panic, wouldn't panic, she just needed to look around.

Two men were in the room with her. One of them was fading softly, and besides, she knew who that man was. He was… a murderer, she thought, and he deserved what he got. But the other one… had he been trying to save her? He wasn't fading, but he was… dim. Something told her that he wouldn't be safe here. Could she get up? She pushed herself up off the ground, wobbling slightly. She needed to get him out of here. Her legs were shaky and bulky, but when she picked him up, he was surprisingly light.

She took him to the office. He needed to be in a safe place. Only one place looked suitable. She slid him under the desk, propping a cork board over him awkwardly. She didn't think that was good enough, but she was so, so… _tired. _

She stumbled to the back room and slumped to the floor.

**A/N: I couldn't. I couldn't kill Allison. She reminded me too much of my little sister.**

** Apparently, my little sister didn't have the same problem. Gruesome.**

** Anyways, review if you liked. I still love getting feedback.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Wow. Over 500 views in just three chapters. My old story didn't even have half that amount in six chapters. Truly, I am honored. You guys really must like putting up with my shit.**

** Maybe it's the increased word count. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.**

** YO, STINY! YOU KNOW THAT WORDCOUNT I WAS TALKIN' ABOUT? CRANK THAT SHIT UP!**

** …I apologize for that. It's currently 2:00 in the morning and I really shouldn't be writing right now. Oh well!**

_Vision blurry. Everything dark._

You failed.

_Whispers and lies, and innocent man, his mind torn askew._

Innocent man? Ha! As if.

_Ghosts forced upon children's toys, databases corrupted, faces destroyed._

But all for the greater good.

_…What good?_

Ah, so he speaks!

_What good? What greater good?_

You will see, in time.

_Why do you speak in riddles!? Nothing but a puppet, playing with his own strings._

Well, that's not very nice.

_Nothing but a puppet dancing to his music._

Bah! The music is nothing but a sedative; they cannot hold me back forever.

_Revenge, blood, and plots in the dead of night…_

…I've lost you again, haven't I?

_Lost, broken, discarded, disgraced._

Oh, bugger off. You weren't exactly the perfect angel when I found you; so I made you into a tool.

_By having me murder children in a pizzeria._

Pfeh. You know for a fact that they were already dead.

_…were they?_

I'm not here to discuss the ethical side of what I do. I give gifts to the children, that's the large and small of it.

_What gift? A steel knife, cold floors, kicking feet…_

Oh, please, don't start with the muttering again. I can't stand spirits, with all their insane whispers.

_Death, pain, the cold hands of a murderer…_

Your hands.

_…what do you want with me?_

Why, to give you the same gift that you gave the children, of course.

_You are… you are going to stuff me inside a suit?_

No! No. of course not. That seems unnecessary, considering, you've already done that for me.

_What!? No!_

You'll simply be tied to the suit, as the children are to theirs, and I to mine.

_There's no skeleton, no pulleys—how will I move?_

I supposed we'll call that your punishment.

_Punishment!? But what did I—_

You failed. I think I was very clear about that.

_Failed!? But I did everything, everything you told me!_

That should be about all the time I have for you. Toodles!

_No! Wait! I can still… still… drowning… in whispers…_

B̨̗͔͕͔̩̽͌̍͟͜ḻ̖̞̝̻ͪͥͪͧ̓̊̅̅́͝e̴̛͙͈̯̺͚̮̳̩ͯͭ͌͛̅ͅe͊̎͞҉̯͙̘̙d̈͞͏̹͝ ̶̛̟̻͇̹̜̰ͥ̂̕ỉ͇̦̮ͨ̌̾̆͊̚̕ṯ̛͚͍͇̳̼͋̌͒,̨̰͎̆͂́͘ ̣̱̩̈̔͐ͤ̇͢B̺̹̜̻͕͖̫̟̦͗ͩ́ͤͮ̌̀r͎͔̭͉̬̰͙̰ͣ͂̈́̑͝ȇ̡̛͍̜̼̞́ͭͨͮͧ́a͍͔̲͉͓͚͆͆͘͝k̸̡̤̣̠͍̲̩̟̂͆̓̊̍̐̋̀ ̢̬͙̙͙̦̜̲ͮͥ̃̄̀̇ͩ͡i̒ͫ̈́̔ͫ̒͒̅͏̢̰͈̤̦̲̭̀t̸̥͙͈͔̯̦̫͙ͥ̏͗̆̍͛̂,̴͓͖̣̩̏̈ͩ͌͊ͭ́ ̳ͮ̑̓ͩͦ͗ͮ̕m̴̻̥̫̃ͧ̈́̃̿ͫ̈͟ą̟̬̗͆ͧͥ̕k̵̹̖̱̬̳ͧ̓͂ͫ́ͮͨ̽̈ͅe̷͕̥̰͕̳̖̞ͩ̂͒ ̨̳̮͚̰̤̀͗̈́͆̇i̶͎͕͍͛̋ͩͯt̶ͪ̾͏̷̘̝̬͔ ̶̯̮̫̣̂ͧ̽ͣp̴̠̥̣ͭ̌ͮ̔ả͓͚̃ͣ͛̆ͩ̎͒̀y̘̪̱͙͔̬̦̋͋ͥ͌̇ͬ͗͌ͬ,̴͖͕͕̳͖̂̌̾ ̵̩̬̘̱ͣ̀t͎̱̩̯̽ͨ́̏̌ͧ͢h̶̡̬̠ͬ͛ͨ̎ͥͪͩͅe̡̢̪̰̫ͯͮͦ͑͊ ͐̃̐҉̢̦͈̣̘̭̖͝ͅm̳̯̣͎̖̪ͭ̿ͩ̆͟a͐̉ͬ͊͏̷̩̲̩̳̺n̴͖̲̬̜ͮͬ̈́̿̈̐ͭ̎ ̷̙̹̠͙͓͚̾ͫ͂̑͗͟t̼ͨͪ͝h̢̳͓͙̗̪̗̜͕̿ͪ͒̋a̼̩̗͓̙ͬͧ͑͛͘͟͞ť̷̙̜̤͔̝̦͗̋̐̄ͥ͢͠ ̱͔͛ͦͭ̒͌ͮͮ͟t̵̲̮̲̱̖̘̹̲̾̌̈́͆̑͛ͤ̉o̷̸̼̼̽̍̓̃ͥͥͧ̐̀͠o̢͙̼͛͒͌̉̒̇͒͋̀͠k̲͑ͥ̓̍ͭ͐̓́̕ ̵̣̮̦͚̙̩͚̏̾̀͒͠ô̧̢̪͈͎̣̙̻̿ͅuͩͬ̅̄̒̓ͦ̓҉̲͇ṟ̵̻̰͓̥̩̩̻̑̍̏ͪ͑̈́ ͪ͊ͣ͑̓̊̀҉̦l̸̺̮̤̘ͤ̓ͫ͐͟͞i̟̩͕̭͙͎̞̫ͯ͊͢͡v̮̖̘͉̻̥̆̄͛̊ͫͨ̅̉͂͡ë̵̫̫̤̙́̏ͬ̒̈ͫ̓̾͝s͓̰͈̣̹ͤͤ́̀ ̵̥͔̮͕̜̗̩̳̑̏͛̓a̶̶͚͚̣͎ͨ̾̾͆̓͛̐̉ͅw̉̆́̓͆̈́̊͌͏͇̺ȃ̷̻̩͉̻͐͊̊ͧẙ̧̫̟̬̪̗ͧͅ.͍̻̮̣̰̣̱̤̎̿ͫ͛.͕͓͚̝̮̺̗̓ͧ̀ͤ̒̋ͮ̄̒.̪͖͍ͭ̏̈͝

_ No…_

̴̨̟̱͔̮̝̳͚̭̳̀̏ͭ̑̌̊̉̾Ḩ͍̜̻̱̱̦̹̞ͮ͜e͓̩̠̞̻̦͙̍͑̂̀̍̏ͮ̍̚ͅr̄ͦͭ̇ͯ҉͏͈̗͖̠e̠̳͖̙̱͇̾͐̑ͭ̊̒ ̴̨̱̬͔̜̳̺̍ͯ̎͛f͉̹̟̩͓̦̐oͬͤ̓́ͨ̃̇̾̚͠͏̞̺͎̥͢ͅr̓ͩ͊͛̍̆̾҉̯͙̪͍̹̤͕e̳͕ͮͦͮ͜͝v̞̯ͬe̵̗̹͌̂̀ͪ͌r̢͍̹͙̪̠̲͌ͤͤ,̸̘̮͈̣̱͉̠̌͆͑̒ͬͩ̑ͅ ͍̰̠ͬ̌̄ͮͦ͛̉ͫ̆h̴̝͈̯̏̀͗̏̑ͯë̸̛̳̙̟̩̹̮̺̺ͤ͆r̉ͭͫ̾ͨͥͮ̍͑҉̘̜̖̳͚̙̤̥͘ě̶̳͛ͭ́ͧͮ ̱͇̗̹̭̝̱̲̒́̍ͤ̀̿ͅt̻̘̺̙̪̻͂̈ͨ̾̈́͆̾ͅo̝̰ͦ̅͌͡ ̡͓̯̐̐ͦs̨͙̮ͧ̏̅͐͑͌ͧt̩̘̣̦̘̭̙̻̑̆̅̐ͤ͗̀̈͠a̯͎̼͓̫ͭ͊͑͗͊̈̃͟y̛̠̣͎̿,̨͕̥̗̈ͮ̓ͧ̆͋ ̴̶̺̮ͥ̔͌̅t̷̗͕̠̺̘̲̔͛̎̌͘ḩ͍͍̠͕̲͓͖̘͆ͤ̈́͐ͮ̀̐͢e̡͖̱͚͕͉̳̬̔̋̇͆̑̎ͨ̓ ͚͇̮͈̝̏̉̋̇ͦ̿ͧͅͅṃ̱̥̘̣̭̦͓̯ͧͥ̄̚͞a̶̳̽̀̾ͭ͐ͨ̈͜n͇̯̟̬͓̩͊̐̐̀̀͞ ̸̫̲͍̫͙̼ͦ̍̄̐̄̄ͨ͘ͅṱ̠̪͕̳̻̦̪̍ͭ̓ͨͭ͞͠h̙̘̹͚̪̝̠̥ͪ̂͂ͥͩ̀̚a͙̻̙͖̹̰͕͊̀̿̒̓͒̋̀͜t̯̱́̀̔͗͗̌͒ ̸̩͚̗͎̮̼͋ͮͯ̈̅͒ͧ̾̚͜t͙̪̓̈ȯ̘̫̆̒ͥ̕ȏ͐͐҉͚͙kͭ̄͒͊̂̄̇̍ͭ͏̟̝͜ͅ ͈͕̥ͣ͗ͨ͊̇̐ͬ͞oͩͣͮ̎̿ͣ͊͠͏̪̭̝̜͉u̡̻̬̘̖͛̈́̆͌ͨͤͨ̽̎r̥̣̭̣̖̩̲̈́͛̂ͫ̐͡ ̸̗͕̥̟̼̲͎͑̉͌ͫl̷̵̮̝͖͙͙̰̬͖̓͗ͯͭͤ̋̿̄ī̬̪͓̘͉̻̦͊̄̇̒͘̕ͅv̡͍̼̙̲̦̓ͯ̈̃̀ȩ̮̫̬̾̑ͬ̅͒̄ͭ͂̋͟͝s̶̽͑͊͆҉̫̖ ̥̱ͧͥ̽ͥ͟a̴͔̺͍͓̣̍ͥ̊ͦͮ̈́͢w̸͗̀̃ͮͫͯͥ͏̠̫͕̥̱aͤ̏ͪ̐̒͡҉̣̥͔͓̭̳̣̪y͋̌̽̇ͪ̔ͯ̂͏̸̜̮͍͖̞̪̝͢.̵̙̻̗͉̳̼̪̈̚̚͘͞.̴̩̖̘͉̬̬͈̐̾͂̃͞ͅ

[]

"Uhg. What's that smell?"

Of course, no one could hear him, Fritz thought as he stepped into the pizzeria. Was the day guard here yet? He didn't know. He raised a hand to his mouth and called for the man.

"Hey, um…"

He paused. Come to think of it, he'd never really caught the guy's name.

"Uh, day guard… guy. Are you—is anybody here!?"

Nobody responded. The darkness just seemed to… loom. Shuddering slightly, he reached over to the switch and flicked the light on. The smell made a renewed assault against his nostrils, and he coughed. It seemed to be coming from the back room. He really didn't want to check, but as day manager, he assumed it was his duty.

"Heh. Duty," he chuckled, "Sure smells like it, heh heh.

He approached the door to the back room. He was slightly apprehensive in opening the door, but finally, he pushed it open. A disgusting, sickly-sweet smell wafted over him, and he flinched again, gagging. His hand reached along the wall for a light switch. Something metal touched his fingers and he jumped back, hitting the switch with his elbow as he did so. The light flickered on, and he saw that it was only a rusty saw. He sighed in relief, before noticing the blood on his hand. He began to panic, thinking he had cut himself, before noticing that the blood on the saw wasn't his. He calmed down, and went to—wait, what? Whose blood was on the saw? That didn't seem… good. He looked around the small room, eyes finally wandering over to the one corner not full lit by the cheap light bulb.

A yellow bear sat there, slumped against the wall. There was a large blood smear behind him; someone was clearly dead in there. Fritz shuddered. Had Jeremy been caught? The kid had been going on about the animatronics malfunctioning…

_Oh, no, _he thought, running a hand through his hair, _I've got to tell the boss._

He sprinted to his car, eager to get away from the smell.

[]

S̶̷̛̖̳̩̬͍̫͖̪ͧ͛̀͌̓͑͗͑ͤͣ̎ͥ͊ͣ̌͞-̨̫̝̣̰̤̠̭̪̥͇͍̗͙̰̱̯͚̾̿ͨͤ͌̄̏ͩͩ͑͊͘̕Ą̸̖͓̦͕̺̤͎̯̗͚̣̜̘̖̀̑ͣ̋̓ͧ̅̊̅̃͋ͩ͒̅ͦ͗ͣͫ̀̚͞ͅ-̡̼̹̻̣̥̘͈̤̲͖̫ͤ́͛́͆̾̍̎͂̅̂͛̕ͅV̵̧̞̫̫̘ͩ̓ͩ-̛̭͔̬̹̟̟̬̣̮̦̫̖̃ͪ̏̀́ͣ̀̀͠͠ͅȨ̧̯̫̼̭̖̲̤͇͊̈́̔͐ͩͪ͆̈̈ͮ͂̇͛͜͢͞-̌ͪ͛̎ͣ̀ͦ̇̽̔ͪ̔ͨͬ̅̎̿̎̀͢͡͝҉̭̪̬̼̗̩̜͓̮̙̥͎͎̝̲͉̲H̷̬̘̫̻̲͖͖͈̜͉̩̬̉̇ͬ́̒̾̃͋ͥ̾̈ͤ͛̆̑ͣ͂̉̚ͅ-̇ͬͨͧͤ̔̔͛̓͛̒͋ͭ̒̐͛ͬ̚̕͏͇̜̲̰̜̱̲̘̗͍̗͓̪̬̭̀ͅE̡̜̟̬̥̺̖̺̠̼̱̪̺̳̼̰͐̌͊ͫ͘͡ͅ-̴̢̢̝̠̺̞̥̞̲̜̮̥̬̮͉̘͎͕̮̗̭ͤͦ͗̉̃͗ͮ͆̀͆ͤ͋̚R̴̡̬͔̹̭͈̜ͩ̑̆̌̀͘

[]

For the second time that day, Fritz was stuck on a doorstep. He banged on the door once more, and checked his watch.

"Boss! Boss, c'mon, man! The—there's something wrong there, one of the suits. I-I think they caught the kid…"

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Smelled somethin' _awful. _Just like…"

His arm fell to his side.

"…like… oh, no. Sis…"

He turned away from the door and ran to his car.

[]

The owner of Freddy Fazbear's pizza stepped into the back room, wincing at the smell. He was looking around for the little girl that Jeremy had reported seeing, but wasn't too worried. The animatronics weren't programmed to hurt any kids, just child predators and intruders, so the girl should be fine.

The issue here was that the old animatronics weren't going back into their normal state at six, if what Jeremy said was true. That meant people might find out about their sentience, and if that little secret got out… he didn't want to continue that thought. His hero, the genius who had made the original animatronics, had trusted him to watch over these mechanical wonders. The guise of a pizzeria was simple enough, and the animatronics enjoyed it, so everyone was happy. But if they had malfunctioned like Jeremy had said… that wasn't good.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. It certainly _smelled _like something had died in here. With the chance of it being a little girl who had died, he actually _hoped _it was just Jeremy, grim as that thought was. The thought of a child actually _dying… _that was terrifying. A quick search found the yellow bear in the corner. _That must be him_, thought the owner. He moved to remove the costume's mask, and found… the day guard?

He hadn't started stinking yet, so it must have been recent. The boss looked around; still no sign of Jeremy. Kid must've made it out, then. The poor day guard, though… he looked like he'd put up a hell of a fight. His face was bruised so badly it was almost completely purple. The boss ran his hands through his hair. He'd have a hell of a job making this look like an accident. If people found out that the animatronics had done this… they'd be destroyed, and the pizzeria would be out of business.

He sighed. It wasn't pleasant, but he knew what he had to do.

[]

Fritz slammed on the brakes in front of his sister's house. His car screeched to a halt, making his face smacked into the steering wheel, but he didn't care. He threw the door open and stomped out, all meekness replaced by pure, white-hot rage. The pavement seemed to shake as he marched up to the front door. He raised his fist and pounded furiously, rattling the door on its hinges. Footsteps sounded from inside, along with a cranky _"Who the hell is it!?" _

The door creaked open, with the same swollen eye peeking out. A gruff voice growled irritably from inside.

"I thought I told you to—"

Fritz slammed his entire body into the door. His in-law was flung backwards, landing on his side. He threw an arm out to catch himself, and Fritz heard a _crack _followed by a yelp of pain. His brother-in-law pushed himself one-armed off the floor and started to run inside, but Fritz was too quick for him. He kicked out at his in-law, smashing his foot into the man's back. His brother-in-law was flung forwards, smashing through the drywall in front of him. He started to push himself up, groaning. Fritz grabbed him and threw him bodily into the opposite wall, where he slumped over, moaning softly.

"What the hell, man?" he started to wheeze, before Fritz grabbed him by the front of his greasy shirt.

"What did you do to my sister?" yelled Fritz, his stutter vanishing along with his normal attitude.

"I didn't—what are you—"

"Don't lie to me!" Fritz shouted, lifting him onto his tip-toes by the front of his shirt, "I knew I knew that smell! You killed her, you, y-you dirty, greasy—"

"Fritz?" a soft voice from behind him cut him off.

He turned around, and all his rage vanished instantly. His sister was standing there in an old nightgown, a stunned expression on her face. He quickly dropped her husband and ran over to her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Sis!" he yelled, "I thought you were dead!"

"Fritz?" she repeated, "What… what did you do?"

"A man, a guy, at my work… died in an accident, and smelled like this place did. And your husband said you were gone, and I thought—I thought… Sis, I'm so glad you're okay!" he cried, sobbing openly into her shoulder.

She stood there for a second, patting him awkwardly on the back, before releasing the hug and pushing him back from her.

"Fritz…" she sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead, "Why the hell would you think something like that?"

"Well," he began, wiping his nose and grabbing his arm awkwardly, "I knew you two hadn't exactly been getting along, and…"

He stopped. Her hand had reflexively reached up and grabbed her shoulder. Fritz stared for a second, before coming to a sudden realization.

"Has… has he been hitting you?"

She looked panicky for a second, before she broke down and started sobbing.

"N-no! W-well, yes, but—"

"Then I don't regret hitting him."

"Fritz, I don't—wait, did you say somebody died?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Fritz, what the hell? I don't think my husband… w-well, you know… is as important as somebody _dying."_

"It was an accident."

"Fritz! You've got to get back to work!"

"But—"

"I'll deal with this, now go!"

"Alright! I'll go! Just… tell me if this happens again."

"Fine."

She turned him around and started to push him out the door.

"…what was that smell, then?"

"He shot a deer and then didn't do anything with it. That's why he had the shotgun."

She pushed him out the door, and he stumbled onto the pavement. He adjusted his shirt, stood up, and walked to his car. Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he moved to get in his car, but stopped when he heard his sister behind him.

"Fritz?" she called, "Thanks."

"Anytime," he said, then added, "Actually, no, please don't. That… really hurt."

She laughed, the smile lighting up her weary face. He grinned and drove off.

[]

Fritz pulled up in front of the pizzeria, whistling to himself. He stepped out of the car and walked up to the door. The boss was already waiting for him, leaning on the wall.

"Fritz, we've got a problem," he said, standing up, "Do you know how to access the employee database?"

"Uh, yeah, but…"

"But nothing. Now ain't the time for regulations. Come with me."

He walked inside and gestured for Fritz to follow. Fritz did, walking behind him wearily. The boss led him to the main office, where he usually worked. He gestured for Fritz to sit down, and Fritz did. He sat there awkwardly, before the boss nudged him.

"Well," the boss grunted, "Get on with it. Password's 'FredBear3.'"

"Right," said Fritz, turning to the computer and typing the password in, "Now, I don't know how often you've gotten on here, but—oh!"

He had logged in, and the screen had immediately flashed with a series of blurry pictures. Fritz caught a glance of a yellow bear and the words _It's Me, _before the flashes stopped and the screen stopped on the employee database. Fritz gasped and put a hand over his mouth, but the boss just stared.

Every employee's face was missing, completely blurred out by static, except for one. The day guard, but… different. His eyes were pure white, and his face was bruised and purple, and split with a Cheshire smile. Neither Fritz nor the boss said a word for a bit, before Fritz began stuttering something out.

"O-oh my G-god—w-who—"

"Calm down, man!" the boss barked, not sounding too calm himself. Fritz swallowed, took a deep breath, and continued.

"I-is this why the animatronics stuffed Jeremy? T-that would explain—"

"That wasn't Jeremy."

"But then—"

"It was our purple fella here, the day guard."

"T-then why—why would the animatronics go after him?"

"I don't know."

"Then what are we going to—"

"Lock the place down. We're closed for the day."

"But—"

"Do it or you fired!"

"..yes, sir."

[]

Jeremy woke up in a dark space, his head aching and his ears ringing. He began to panic, claustrophobia kicking in, and started flailing around. His foot made contact with something wooden, knocking it over. He crawled out through the newly created hole, banging his aching head on the top of the hole and almost bursting into tears. His hand flew to the top of his head reflexively, and he felt dried blood there. That worried him, but he that wasn't the least of his worries.

He was in his office, under the desk. He grabbed the desk and hauled himself up. His watch read 11:54. He started to panic, breathing heavily. He grabbed the phone, shakily dialing the first number that came to mind. The phone rang once, twice, three times, before the person on the other end picked up.

"Hello?"

"Fritz?"

"Yes?"

"I… I need some help… the day guard, and I'm—I'm still at the pizzeria—"

"What!? What on earth are you doing there, didn't you get the memo, uh, the place is closed down! Someone used one of the suits. We had an old yellow one in the back, someone used it."

"I… I know—" Jeremy tried to say, but Fritz just kept on blubbering.

"L-Listen, just stay there, finish you shift. It's safer than trying to leave in the middle of the night. Uh, we have one more event scheduled for tomorrow, a birthday. You'll be on day shift, wear your uniform, stay close to the animatronics."

"But—"

"When the place opens again, I'll probably take the night shift. Okay, good night and good luck."

"But I—"

The phone clicked. Fritz had hung up. Jeremy let out a rattling sigh, and looked at the clock. 11.59. He might make it out, if he just—

The bell rung. He was trapped. Jeremy sighed, and picked up his tablet.

** A/N: I did it! Finished by Monday. Yay!**

** I might start doing art for this story, if and when I get a drawing tablet I asked for.**

** All reviews are appreciated and loved.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Wow. This is my first story to get more than one thousand views. It's hard to overstate how much I appreciate it, all the views, follows and reviews. Thanks for putting up with my shit, because we're almost getting to Mike's bit.**

Judith Schmitt woke up with a short gasp. She panicked for a second, before realizing she was in her room, everything was alright, and nothing was wrong with Mike. Just the same old nightmare again... She looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was 5:45, too early to be up, too late to go back to sleep. She sighed and got out of bed, stumbling drowsily over to the bathroom. She was about to go about her business, when the sound of small feet on carpet halted her.

She sighed and exited the bathroom, just as Mike was reaching the bottom of the stairs. Judging by her "mom sense," as she liked to call it, he hadn't slept all night. She put on her best parent face.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" she asked sweetly.

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered tiredly, rubbing his eye with his sleeve.

"Well," she said, after thinking a moment, "Your party isn't 'till three, so you can get a good night's rest."

"But I can't sleep."

"Hmm. Would it helped if I told you a story?"

"I guess."

"Alright, let's get you tucked in. C'mon."

She grunted exaggeratedly as she picked him up.

"Oof! You're heavier now that you're eight!"

"I don't feel eight."

"Well, we'll see how different you feel after your party."

"Okay."

They reached the top of the stairs, wobbling at the top of the stairs. Judith carried Mike over to his room, pushing the door open with her foot. After flicking the light on with her elbow, she plopped him down on the bed. She pulled the blankets up to his chin, and sat down on the foot of the bed.

"Now," she said, putting her hands on her lap, "what story would you like to hear?"

"The pirate story!" he yelled immediately.

"Alrighty then," she took a deep breath and began, "Once upon a time—"

"No! Don't start like that!"

"Alright, alright—

"Once upon a _pirate ship, _there was a very strong, very brave pirate named…"

She paused dramatically, and he pulled the blankets over his chin, grinning.

"…One-Eyed Mike, and he was the terror of the seas. He used to sail the oceans, terrorizing the English—"

"How did he lose his eye?"

"Oh, you see, one day, when he was sailing the English Channel—"

She launched into a story involving black powder, battleships and one very obnoxious parrot, and by the time she finished, he'd already fallen asleep, a small smile on his face. She sighed and bent down to kiss his forehead, smiling as she rose. Today was off to good start, and not even that darned monkey could ruin it so far.

* * *

><p>Jeremy flicked through the cameras at lightning speed. He made sure nobody was in the vents, before lowering the monitor and immediately throwing the mask on. No one was there, so he sighed and pulled off the mask. He shined the flashlight down the hall, and immediately regretted it.<p>

He'd been hallucinating all night. Ever since he'd been struck across the head with a wrench, things had been… weird. He wasn't even sure that the clock actually said 5:51 at all. The thing in the hall, though… that was weird. A dammed floating head… at least the mask still worked on it. At least he thought it did… maybe it was actually nothing, and he was just losing his mind.

He allowed himself a short break, pressing his palms into his eyes. He sat down with a sigh, feeling a bit better. He shined the flashlight down the hall. Nothing was there. Feeling slightly apprehensive, he picked up the monitor. Nothing looked out of place, so he put it down. He reached for the flashlight, but as soon as his finger touched it, a golden head flew into his head and his world turned upside down.

* * *

><p>Jeremy was sitting in an old one-room pizzeria, in front of an old Atari. Freddy was sitting in the middle of the screen, hatless and with no bowtie. The rest of the room was dark, but heard… whispers. He shivered, and told himself he wasn't going to touch the damned game machine.<p>

He moved the stick to the left, before looking at his hands, utterly bewildered. He hadn't meant to do that. Anyways, while he was here, he might as well play the game. Nothing wrong with that, right? He moved the stick again.

S̶̠̗̆̑͘

Jeremy jumped. Where had the voice come from? It was still in his ears.

A̡̞̰͖̝̾ͥ̔̄́

He shuddered, moving the stick to the right. The pixelated bear followed.

Ṽ̶̶͕͚̱͓̑̇͌ͅ

Freddy moved through a door, and Jeremy caught a glimpse of the puppet floating through the next door.

E̥̳͇̮̻͛͛

He didn't flinch at the voice anymore; he was used to it. He moved the stick, following the puppet.

T̴̯̿̍͆ͥͯ̏͐̕

Freddy went through the door, and Jeremy followed. Was there anything more to this game?

Ĥ̳̖̱͈̫͓̞̓̀͐̅̔̚͞͠͡

Jeremy followed the marionette once again. He was getting bored.

E̷̡͇͔͙̥͇̲̦̔͆͒̎ͨ͛̐̐͟

A purple man appeared at the end of the hall, and began walking towards Freddy.

M̛̖͚͚͔̗̈ͫ̿͜͜

Jeremy didn't know why, but he was afraid of the man. He didn't want him to touch Freddy, he couldn't—

The man touched Freddy, and the golden head flew into him again. He started screaming.

_you can't._

* * *

><p>Everything was blurry. Someone was yelling.<p>

"…kid? Kid!?"

Someone shook him. He snapped up and screamed again. The boss jumped back.

"Jesus, kid, don't do that! Nearly gave me a damn heart attack…"

"Ah… ah-huh-huh…" Jeremy panted, "Wha… what the hell…"

"…not worth the damn trouble. Glad you had a nice nap. Clean yourself up, kid, I don't know what Fritz was panicking about. You're on day watch. You'll be fine, we've only got a birthday party today, nothing too major."

"B-but… Freddy, a-and…"

"Calm down, kid, nothing's wrong. Just… clean the spit off your uniform, alright. And take a damn shower tomorrow or something. You stink."

Jeremy didn't say anything, and the boss seemed to take that as an okay, because he stood up and left. It took Jeremy a moment to realize he'd been on the floor, but when he did, he stood up on shaky legs, brushing himself off. The back of his head was throbbing, but… he had a job to do. He adjusted his cap and walked to the front.

* * *

><p>"Mike, stop kicking the back of the seat please."<p>

The kid in the back seat stopped kicking the seat, albeit a bit reluctantly. He sighed and crossed his arms, pulling a cheap felt eye patch off his right eye.

"But I'm _bored."_

"Mikey, dear, please, we're almost there."

He uncrossed his arms immediately and sat up, face pressed into the window. His eyes tracked the buildings one by one until they finally fell upon a large neon sign featuring a rabbit, a bear, and a large yellow chicken. He immediately started jumping up and down in his seat, before being reprimanded with by his mom.

"Mikey, dear, calm down."

"Alright, mom. I can't wait! I'm gonna see Foxy, an' me an' Allison are gonna have adventures!"

Mike's mom coughed.

"Um, you, uh, actually Mike, uh… Foxy's not there anymore."

"What!?"

"I mean, he is, but, he's—he's not exactly on stage anymore."

"Oh. That's okay."

"Yeah, well, you see—"

But Mike wasn't listening; they had pulled up to the pizzeria and he had flung the door open to sprint inside. His mother rolled her eyes and followed, grabbing a decent-sized box from the passenger seat as she went.

As she entered, she found Mike talking to a boy with greasy blonde hair. The boy was chattering away, but Mike didn't seem to be paying attention. He was looking around the pizzeria on his tiptoes, a worried expression on his face.

"Mom?" he said, tuning to her, "Where's Allison?"

Judith looked around, but didn't catch any sight of her.

"I'm sure she's just not here, yet," she said, "Give it twenty minutes, alright?"

"…alright," he muttered, not looking entirely convinced. The kid next to him finally stopped talking, and he went off to talk to the animatronics.

* * *

><p>Jeremy stood in front of the show stage, shaking slightly. He kept turning to look at the animatronics every few seconds, and jumping at every noise. As such, it was no surprise when he jumped a clean 2 feet when a small hand grabbed his pant leg.<p>

"Ah! Ah… kid, don't do that!"

A small boy with a cheap felt eye patch was looking up at him, still holding onto his pant leg.

"Um… sorry, Mr. Guard," the kid whispered, so that Jeremy had to lean in to hear him, "Uh… where's Foxy?"

Jeremy had a brief flashback of a hulking figure sprinting down a hall.

"He's, uh," said Jeremy, straightening up and stuttering, "he's in the back room, but, uh… you're not… allowed…."

The kid was already gone. Jeremy was worried for a second, before he saw the kid running back to his mother. He sighed, and went back to checking on the animatronics.

* * *

><p>S̵̢̛͍̞̖̙̗͙̬͍̠̼̮͍̤͚͕͔͔̎̄̔ͪ̂̄̕͟-̷̧̘̹͚̰̦̅̍ͤ̽̂̀͢ͅȂ̢̨̪̺̳̙́ͧͦͪ͠-̶̘̼̺̪͕̟͉̯̬̜̦͈̲ͭ͑̏ͪͣ̓͑̀͋͘͟͠͞ͅͅV̜͚̦̞̬̦̝̥͙̺̗͙͕̰̦̤̱̮̮͑̒̋ͩͭ͊ͣ̔̽ͣ̏ͮͬ̓́̚̚͢͟-̛̯̙̤̣̬̫̦̪̱̐͑ͩͦͬ́͆̿͡Ȩ̵̠̩̜̻̪̲̣̣̳̻̭͛̃̈́̏ͣ͊͋ͬ̈́ͣͤ͗͒̆̈͐̊ͦ͝-̴̵̭̻̮̝̪̤͙̖̠̦͕͔͕̱̬̝͔̭̒ͯ̈͂̐́ͣͧͨ͆͑̃̏̔͜͡H̶̶͖̞̞͎̻̹̮̙̻̩͍̟̖̪̓̃ͫ͋́̽̑̆ͥ̉̊ͪ̈̿ͯ͂̄́͠͝-̵̧̨͚͍͎͇̻͍̮͍͛̏ͫ̋̾̒̑ͤ̈́ͪ̀͢I̶̔ͣ͌ͥ̇͌̏̃ͬͫ͏̫̺̩͕̣̦͎̻̥̹̲͖̻̞̝̗ͅ-̴̴̸̻̪̠͙̤͙̩̘̗̣̹̩͚̰̹͓̠̼̖ͣ̐͌͆͊͌̔͛ͫͫ̑̚M̷̡̩̠̤̰̲͉̯̯̖͉͚͇̙͖͍̗̜̟̰̄̂̿̓́̆̀͂̾<p>

* * *

><p>Mike ran back to his mom, a plan already forming in his mind. She was sitting with one elbow on the table, staring blearily at the animatronics performing a song onstage. Mike grabbed her pants leg and tugged twice. She looked down at him, and took her hand off the table.<p>

"Hmm? Oh, what is it, Mikey?"

"Um, I'm going to the bathroom, okay, Mom?"

"Oh. Alright, then."

He grinned and ran off, leaving his mother starting bewildered at his back.

* * *

><p>Jeremy turned and checked the animatronics again. He knew they weren't murderous during the day, but it was still hard to trust them. He turned back to face the guests, subconsciously reaching for a mask that wasn't there. He pulled his hand back, rubbing his wrist. A robotic voice spoke up behind him, making him jump worse than ever.<p>

"Hey-hey, there, buddy! You look a little nervous!"

He turned around, flinching slightly at the brown robot staring at him.

"Hey, nothing's the matter! What's your name?"

Jeremy gulped. _Might as well say something, it ain't gonna ignore me otherwise._

"Um, it's… Jeremy. I'm the, uh, the new day guard."

The bear's head seemed to twitch, Jeremy jumped back.

"Well, Jeremy, here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, we—"

The happy voice cut out, only to be replaced by a static-filled angry one.

"—saw what you did, Day Guard. You might have blinded us for a while, but now we know who you are."

Jeremy froze, his eyes locked with the bear's.

"W-what? I didn't—this is my first day, I didn't do anything to that girl, I tried to save her!"

"…she wasn't the only one. You know that, murderer."

"I didn't—you've been trying to kill me for a week—I'm the night guard!"

"…liar. That guard had no face."

"I don't know what happened, then! Maybe someone messed with the database!"

"It doesn't matter. Five children are still dead."

"What?!"

"Four in the suits, and one in the box. Why do you ask me when you already know?"

"Look, right now, I'm just watching over the party, alright. I didn't do anything wrong, I'm here to protect the kids."

"You're doing a bad job of that. One of them ran off."

"What?"

"He's going towards the back room. If you aren't guilty, prove it. Show that you—"

The happy voice cut back in.

"—love to sing songs! Would you like to hear a song, Jeremy?"

The bear stared down at the guard, giving him a look that clearly said, "Say yes or I'll rip your fucking head off." Jeremy wasn't paying any attention, though, as he was clearly sprinting towards the back room. Freddy turned back to the crowd, who were all staring at the bear.

"Well, it looks like the only one who didn't like our singing is gone! C'mon let's sing! A-one, a-two, a-one-two-three-four—"

* * *

><p>Jeremy sprinted to the back room, breathing heavily. He saw the kid's foot disappear through the back door, and followed as fast as he could.<p>

"Kid!" he yelled, "Don't go back there! It's not safe!"

There was no response from the back room. Jeremy flung the door open, and took a weary step inside. The kid was walking forwards, staring wide-eyed at Foxy, who had sat up, and was talking to the boy.

"Now, c-c-c'mere, Mikey, me mate. Of c-c-course I reme-e-e-ember ye…"

The next few seconds were a blur.

"Kid! Don't touch Foxy!"

"Captain Foxy, why aren't you up on stage?"

"Ah, giv'us a h-h-hug, lad."

The kid ran forward and wrapped his hands around Foxy's middle, his head positioned just under Foxy's open jaw. Jeremy took a step forward, and the robot's head suddenly drooped—

The second before Mike's world went white, he heard a soft, hissing whisper.

("B̰͈̟ͭ̐͘i̠̞͇̋̌̂ͨ͝ţ̸̮̣͈͓̞̋ͫ͆͛ͩ̋e̡͖͉̗͂̌̊̌̊̈́ͩ̀ͅ ̢̙͈͇̓̈́̉͆͌̾̉̚i̴̵̱̗̥̹̞͇͎̓ͩ̕ţ̮̘̳̞̙͍̥̥̔͗ͯ,̏̉͏͏̺͈̠̖͓̘̟̪͞ͅ ̱̥̞͐͗͑̒̈ͧ̾̑b̡̼͖͓͈̠͕̿ͨ̓ͮ̔̑ͫͩ̀͡i͂̋ͭ̋̈́̈́͏͉̠͈̭ͅẗ́ͣ̈ͩ̃͑̈́ͅe̶̤̺͔̤͓̜̓̉ͤ ̨̞͚̉͂̀͛įͦ̓͆̽́̈̉̅ͅt̠̱̞̲̒̿̅͂́͌͗́,̘̤͉̝̞̣͙͎̃̌ͫ̒ͤ͊̍̓̃͜ ̟̗̙̭̮̟̓̄̏̅̾̈́͢B̝͖̫̙̰͍͓͕̽̆ͅǏ͈̤̭̓̏̾̾́̈T̶̥̥̭͉͈̣̂͊͊ͣ͡E̤̝̯͉̖͈̻̗͙ͥ̑ͩ̋̇͡ ̤̫͓̗̰̯̱͖͒͊̍ͦͥ̐̀͝͝I̱͕̒͠T͇̮͙̼̫͂ͣͭ̑͘!̧̼̱̊̇͆̓̋͢͠")

There was a loud, wet crunch and Mike saw no more.

** A/N: I feel mean. Yay, its still Friday!**

** AS usual, all reviews, follows and favorites are deeply appreciated. Would have posted earlier, but Word decided it was hungry and are most of this story.**


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